


After the Fourth Wedding

by Dee_Laundry



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, linked drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-23
Updated: 2007-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Laundry/pseuds/Dee_Laundry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Five linked drabbles (500 words exactly)</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He tells her all the time how pretty she is.

It’s not a compliment.

It’s code. Code for not clever enough, not humorous enough, not _interesting_ enough. She’s grown stronger over time, established herself away from his tutelage. They are peers.

But not equals.

Not even now, four months into this relationship – this relationship _he_ pursued. She insisted on real dates, and real conversations, and wooing. He wooed.

Now, he tells her all the time how pretty she is, which is code for: You disappoint me. You’re not who I want. I can’t have my equal, so I’m having you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five linked drabbles (500 words exactly)

Six months in, they get careless with the condoms.

When the pregnancy test flashes positive, her first thought is _he won’t want it_. It’s him, what he thinks, what he wants, that always seems to be her first thought lately. Which is, of course, exactly the wrong way to be. He likes her better, treats her better, when she’s strong. When she’s almost – she can’t bear to think of herself this way – selfish.

Her second thought is _what a convenient excuse to get out of the relationship_.

Her third thought is _wonder which one of us will grab that convenience_.

* * *

  


Contrary to every expectation she has, he’s happy when she tells him she’s pregnant. He kisses her and smoothes her hair and rubs her belly gently, and when he doesn’t say, “I love you,” it’s all right because he never does.

“How far along?”

“Five weeks.” It’s a guess; she’s never tracked her periods. They’ll find out for sure soon enough.

“Let’s keep it our secret,” he whispers. “Until the fetus is further along. After we hear the heartbeat; that’s when the risk of miscarriage drops.”

“Our secret,” she whispers back, and forgets to ask why it matters to him.

* * *

  


She carries the secret quietly, reverently. It makes her smile at random times, but her colleagues are used to her smiling, anyway. (When they confer in whispers about how anyone dating House could possibly smile, she ignores them.)

It’s another smile that lets her know the game is up. Wilson, in the cafeteria, with a fondness for her he’s never before displayed – and she is furious that it’s _that man_ who’s the first to know.

“Hormones,” House smirks, when she stands before his desk, hands on hips. The hot tears spill down her cheeks; he hands her a tissue, unconcerned.

* * *

  


It’s nine weeks. Her first official prenatal visit is in five days, although House has already been monitoring her in the eyes-in-the-back-of-his-head way he always does.

She wants to break the silence, now that he has, but she’s been waiting for the official visit. A superstition, maybe, or the fear of having to dash someone’s hopes later.

She sneaks a handheld Doppler into an exam room. She’s depriving House by not letting him hear with her, but she thinks, in some corner of his brain, he might approve. The heartbeat is steady and a perfect speed. Someone’s living in there.

* * *

  


“I’m telling my mother,” she informs him the next moment they’re alone together.

She’s curled up on his couch – it’s not “their couch,” not even now – and he is pacing. He’s just come in, and he’s looking for something. In his movements, she can tell that once he finds that thing, whatever it is, he’ll leave again.

She repeats, “I’m –” just as he throws aside some papers and grabs something off the desk. Tickets, it looks like.

“Tell her I’m marrying you,” he says as he walks out the door, and that’s all the proposal he ever gives her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five linked drabbles (500 words exactly)

Wilson finds them the house.

It’s bigger than House’s apartment but not too big, and reasonably near the hospital. Through the kitchen’s large window, Cameron can see the entire backyard with its lush low-maintenance landscaping and sturdy playset. The only room not on the main level is a small finished studio over the garage. “For when you want to escape,” Wilson laughs.

“I thought this,” he says, opening the door to a sweet yellow room filled with indirect sunshine, “could be the nursery.”

Safe sidewalks, friendly-looking neighbors, good school system. Cameron wants to scratch the smile out of Wilson’s eyes.

* * *

At every prenatal visit, House is there. (She wonders when the baby comes if he’ll turn into Greg, or skip straight to Dad.) Sometimes this lifts her heart, and she floats for the next day or two, her head filled with the helium of a happy ending.

Sometimes this strains her lungs, the overwhelming weight of his attention cutting off oxygen. His fights with the OB – because of course House knows all, in every area of medicine – amplify the feeling but are not the cause.

He rubs her abdomen and whispers words she can’t hear to the baby every night.

* * *

One night they have dinner at Wilson's house. The Mrs.’s name is Allison, too, which Mrs. finds cute and Cameron finds revolting.

House kicks Cameron under the table and makes faces at the food when the others aren’t looking. It’s a moment just for them, and it makes her smile all evening, even through a third cup of decaf in the kitchen with Mrs.

Time to leave, but House and Wilson have fallen asleep, stretched out right next to each other on the pull-out couch. “Our boys,” Mrs. coos, and Cameron is suddenly tucked in alone in a guest room.

* * *

Their wedding day is House’s birthday. _At least he'll remember it_ , she thinks. Acknowledgment: maybe, maybe not. Sometimes he still bothers to woo.

He’s surprisingly supportive during the planning - listening, involved, but letting her have the final say. He only asks that they get married in the morning.

It’s a lovely ceremony, a lovely day. Her mother cries, and his mother hugs her sweetly. House looks handsome, and happy.

She never admits that she selected the opening date of the largest oncology conference of the year; he never mentions the time was set so Wilson could make his flight.

* * *

To Cameron’s astonishment and delight, during their four-day honeymoon, there are only two people present. (“And a half,” supplies some part of her brain, but really she believes life begins at birth.)

House attempts to teach her about wine without letting her drink any, which is uproariously funny all-around. Cameron attempts to teach him about antiques, annoyed that he only half-listens, until he perfectly identifies her favorite type of cut glass.

They make love at least once a day – he doesn’t call it that, never will, but his fingers, lips, and clean-shaven cheeks whisper it to her over and over.


	4. Chapter 4

At thirty-six weeks, Immunology throws her a baby shower. Chase wanders in from the ICU for a quick hug and cake, then wanders back out.

She’s opening the second present when House comes in and sits next to her. “Sorry I’m late,” he says. “Patient.”

They all stare at the impostor; he shrugs. “Cake, presents, and singing Drusilla’s praises, what’s not to like?” Cameron smiles at their daughter’s “prenatal” name and hands him another gift, wrapped in diaper-clad ducks. House eyes it warily but picks at the tape.

The crocheted cane gets a place of honor over the baby’s crib.

* * *

“I win.”

Wilson’s pose is familiar, from a deep, distant memory. Cameron frowns until it emerges: third grade, when winning at four-square made you ruler of the whole world.

She’s out of their eyesight, but sees both of them perfectly. House’s eyes hold confusion; he’s got the same memory imprint but hasn’t puzzled it out. He seems to know what’s behind the words, though.

“You’re happy. Don’t try to deny it, because you can’t. You’re happy, which means I win.” Wilson is gloating, grinning.

House’s head is down; he can’t say a thing. Because Wilson is ruler of the world.

* * *

Elizabeth Cameron House makes her intentions known at seven a.m. and presents herself to the world at a very polite eight p.m. Near-fisticuffs with the obstetrician forgotten, House looms over the OB nurses as they check her out, trying to direct the action, until the shortest one shoves him back.

“Go hold your wife’s hand,” she orders, and to Cameron’s great surprise, he does. He tells her how proud he is, and when Elizabeth is brought over, they both reach out. Cameron cuddles her close, and when House says, “I love you,” it doesn’t matter which of them he means.

* * *

At six weeks old, Elizabeth’s sleeping schedule stabilizes, and Cameron finally feels like she can think again. Enough to get some chores done, at least.

She’s thrilled to check the final name off the thank-you note list, until she notices someone’s missing. Damn.

“I’m writing baby gift thank-you’s. Why can’t I remember what Wilson gave us?”

House looks up. “It was months ago; I already thanked him."

“But what was it?”

House’s eyes have returned to the journal. “This house. Five percent of it, anyway. I’m not sure whether Allison knows, so don’t mention it.”

Cameron goes back to bed.

* * *

“You love Wilson,” Cameron whispers as House slides into bed next to her. He demolishes her defenses with his gaze.

“Yes.”

She ducks her head. “We should get divorced.”

“Why?”

“Because –”

“Do you love your father?”

“Yes.”

“ _And_ you love me. My relationships with Wilson and with you are different things. It’s not a zero-sum game.”

“You’d save Wilson first from a burning building.”

“I’d save _Elizabeth_ first. And yet you still want to be married to me.”

“That’s different.”

“Not unless you make it so. I’m with you because you make me happy.”

That it’s true is enough.

* * *

He hardly ever tells her she’s pretty any more.

He tells her she’s raising a headstrong girl who will never know her place.

He works late – and goes off with Wilson for hours – more than she likes, but he drops everything to stay home with Elizabeth when she’s sick.

He tells her she works too much. He tells her she’s stubborn, and irritating, and mystifying, until the middle of the night, in the middle of their bed, when he can only choke out happy incoherent syllables.

He hardly ever tells her she’s pretty.

She likes it much better this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _How the story ends so often depends on when the story ends. If you're satisfied with this ending, stop. If not, go see the epilogue._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight linked drabbles (800 words exactly)

The new immunology attending, Paul, is bright and funny and kind. Cameron stays away from him entirely, until they have to work together on a grant.

House chooses that month to be the worst possible version of himself, with a nastiness not seen since that detective and forced detox years ago. Even Wilson stays away – it’s only around his daughter that House remembers how to be human.

After he shreds Cameron in front of her first-year residents, she wants a drink, settles for a latte, and finds herself confiding in Paul.

She leaves House on a Thursday, her conscience clear.

* * *

House is angry, sarcastic, horrible to Cameron during the divorce proceedings (Paul is furious; Cameron shrugs it off), but he’s remarkably decent about custody. They agree on school years with Cameron, summers with House, and he doesn’t fight the move.

By Elizabeth’s ninth birthday, they are settled in Atlanta. Cameron loves Emory; Paul is happy at the CDC; Elizabeth has friends and hobbies, and her Dad emails every night.

House comes uninvited to their wedding, and of course brings Wilson. Elizabeth hangs on her father and dances with Uncle Jimmy, and they all laugh together before the evening is through.

* * *

As Cameron walks in the door, Liz is hanging up the phone. “Who was that?”

“Dad,” Liz replies, with the studied weariness of the almost-teen. “He wants you to call him.”

“Why?”

“He’s moving to Tampa.”

Cameron’s shocked; she can’t imagine House anywhere but Princeton. “Why?”

“Because Leah’s mom is moving.”

“Who’s Leah?”

“My little sister.”

“Your _what_?”

“Well, stepsister.”

“Wait. Your father’s married?”

“Yeah. Sort of. Guess they won’t be after they move.”

“You lost me, Liz. Back up to where your father married Leah’s mom.”

“He didn’t.”

“You said he did!”

“He married Leah’s dad.”

“What?”

“Uncle Jimmy.”

* * *

Shifting nervously, Cameron rings the doorbell. Liz is almost bouncing in anticipation – at the thought of seeing her father or the rumored pool, Cameron’s not sure.

Wilson opens the door, a smile on his face and a preschooler on his hip. “Liz! Cameron! Come on in; we’ll get your bags later.” The girl is staring hopefully at Liz, who bounds in, forgetting to play it cool.

Setting his daughter down, Wilson says, “Go show Liz the cookies we made.”

“Great idea,” replies Liz; Leah smiles bashfully. They walk off hand-in-hand, and Cameron almost sighs at the sisterly image that evokes.

* * *

“What do you want to know?” Wilson asks jovially. The warm weather seems to agree with him; she’s never seen him this loose and open.

It strengthens her resolve; she grabs her courage and dives in. “I heard you tell House once, just before Liz was born, that he was happy and so you had won. What did you mean?”

“Wow.” Wilson takes a step back, his hand going to his neck. “I thought I’d get, ‘Why Tampa?’ or even ‘How long?’ first.”

“Those answers would be good, too, but this I have to know.”

“Why don’t we sit down?”

* * *

This is the key, Cameron’s decided, to everything: yesterday and today, and if she can understand this, she can understand her place in House’s life. She’d like to be certain.

“House didn’t think he could be happy,” Wilson says, his eyes distant, seeing back over the years. “I swore he could. I dropped back by getting engaged to Allison, put a few things in motion, nudged here and there, and you did the rest. _Et voila_ , happy Greg House. I won.”

Her heart drops. _Everything engineered by Wilson_. “It was just a game to you?”

Wilson is shocked, open-mouthed. “Never.”

* * *

“It was all about you,” Cameron says, resigned. “Not about me.”

Wilson laughs lightly. “Did you listen at all? I set it up, but you made it happen. He really loved you.”

At Cameron’s headshake, Wilson leans in closer and continues. “Look, he’d kill me for telling you this, but the night we kissed for the first time, he was upset, missing you and Elizabeth so much he was crying. Actual tears, swear to God. And I melted and wanted to comfort him… That was our first kiss. Because of _you_. So… thanks.”

She’s surprised at how relieved she feels.

* * *

House grabs Wilson before he can move.

“I wasn't crying. I was cranky and snappy and you kissed me to shut me the hell up. Your screwy version of the story is _lame_.”

“I told you a long time ago, Cameron likes lame. Now she’s happy.” He pokes House in the side and gestures toward the other room, where their daughters are admiring Cameron’s earrings. “Everybody’s happy, so you can give up a tiny bit of your rep.”

House smirks and bumps a hip against Wilson. “You’re lucky you make me so happy.”

Smiling, Wilson bumps back. “Yes, I am.”


End file.
